


And Be One Traveler...

by Elektra Pendragon (elekdragon)



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Covert, Daddy Kink, Future Fic, Incest, M/M, Masturbation, Parent/Child Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 16:39:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2658986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elekdragon/pseuds/Elektra%20Pendragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So what if they were a couple? And so what if they were a bit kinky? The way the kid moaned "daddy" as he took that cock was enough to make Chase hard as fuck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Be One Traveler...

**Author's Note:**

> Set many years into the apocalypse, in a bleak, empty forested wasteland that smells like rust and bones. Title from Robert Frost. Brief, vague mention of rape.

Chase knew they had to be alive. The dead didn't give a fuck about being quiet. The ones fresh enough to be ambulatory moaned and hissed, trudging through thick grass and leaves like a bull in a china shop. These steps were careful, almost silent, like a rare doe tipping through brush, only different.

He held his breath, his knife ready in case it was a mistake, and leaned out of the shadows to see.

The two men reacted as though they had known he was there all along, their own weapons ready but not quite in kill mode. The younger one had a pistol clenched in his hands, aiming it directly at Chase's eye. They froze, staring at each other.

Chase wasn't too sure how long it had been since he'd seen another live human being. How long had it been since everything ended? Seven years? Ten? He'd lost count of the winters once Janie died. They used to celebrate being alive, but once she was gone, it just didn't matter.

He traced their features with his eyes, taking in the scars and lines from a hard life. The shorter man looked ancient, with gray in his hair and beard, but his eyes were bright and alert. He held a knife in his steady left hand, the blade wicked sharp and well used. His right hand stayed behind his back, possibly concealing a secondary weapon. To have survived this long, he had to be tough as fuck.

The kid was long and skinny, burned to bone and muscle by years of depredation. He must have been young when it all started. He could have been young as 20, but his face was hard enough for someone in his 50s. He angled his body to slightly cover the older man. 

Chase eased his knife-grip, lowering the weapon more but keeping it ready for any creeps that might be wandering after them. He nodded to the younger one, his eyes on the gun. "You still have bullets for that?"

The kid cocked the weapon. "You want to try and see?" 

"Carl." The man's voice was rough, and it made Chase swallow with sympathetic pain at hearing it. He stretched out his hidden hand, placing it gently over the kid's--Carl's--wrist. The fingers were twisted and swollen, completely useless, but the pressure of his touch lowered his aim just a bit. "He's alive."

"Damn right," Chase answered. He registered the pain in his cheeks long before he realized he was smiling. It'd been a long time since he'd heard another voice that wasn't screaming.

Carl uncocked his pistol, shoving it back in the battered holster at his hip. He didn't stand down completely, glaring suspiciously at Chase, but he let the older man take the lead. 

"You got food?"

Chase shrugged one shoulder, showing off the thin sack tied to his back. "A few bits of squirrel. Got clean water, though."

Carl licked his chapped lips tellingly. "Camp?" he asked, his voice rough and deep, but not as rusty as the old man's.

"Just a bolt hole. Half mile. I'm a few days ahead of a herd, gotta move on soon."

"People?"

Chase shook his head. "Been just me for..." There was no way to finish that sentence, so he let it hang. The two men exchanged looks, communicating silently. The older man's gnarled hand gripped the kid's wrist twice, and it was hard to know if the movement was some sort of signal or just a twitch of wounded nerves misfiring. 

"Food for water, shelter for protection?" Carl offered.

Chase knew he shouldn't take them to his shelter, but he needed the connection to humanity. And the food. Even if it was just for a little while.

"Fair deal."

Carl nodded once, his eyes hard and unyielding as he stared into Chase's face for a long moment. Then he turned and stalked to a small trio of trees, kicking aside a pile of leaves to reveal two packs hidden in the debris. 

"How many walkers have you killed?"

Chase broke off a laugh. Everyone had their own lingo out here for those Things. "I wasn't keeping track." When the man didn't cut his dead-serious look, he continued a little less jovially. "Hundreds. Maybe thousands. Every one that tried to take a bite out of me."

"And how many people have you killed?"

Chase instinctively knew the distinction--how many live ones did he kill? "Sixteen." Each face was etched in his memory, even if he forgot--or never knew--their names.

"Why?"

"Three cuz they raped my baby sister. The rest, cuz they got bit."

"Your sister?"

"Dead," Chase answered, ice digging into his chest at the memory.

"What was her name?" the kid asked as he approached, shouldering the larger pack and dragging the other beside him. 

"Jane." Chase said it just to hear it once more. Sometimes he whispered her name to the wind, just for the comfort it brought. "Janie."

The older man nodded. "It's a good name." He sheathed his knife, then held out his good left hand. "Rick."

Chase eyed the dirty fingers a bit before stuffing his own knife into his belt. He gripped the offered hand with his own, squeezing the tough, warm skin. He shivered at how good it was to feel something alive once more. "Chase," he finally replied, belatedly and awkward. 

The kid pushed his way in front of Rick as soon as Chase dropped his hand. "And I'm Carl." He straightened to his full height, looming over Chase like an old scarecrow.

"Yeah, I kinda figured that." He backed off a little, letting the kid know he wasn't trying to step on his toes. He looked around, instantly resetting his bearings before gesturing to the left. "This way." 

It was a careful sign of trust that he gave the two men his back. Carl was skittish as fuck--probably for good reason--but something told Chase he could trust that Rick. Anyway, wasn't like there was much to get out of killing anyone now. It just made this fucked up world a little more empty and a lot more stinky.

The steady, soft swish of fabric let him know the men were following as he led them back the invisible trail to his temporary shelter.

****

It'd been... Well, probably about three winters (four?) since Chase had tried living in a house. The creeps seemed to know the places where they might find some fresh meat, like they'd remembered that they, too, once had four walls and a roof. They flocked around a house when they found one, occupied or not, pressing and scratching and groaning until the aged wood finally collapsed or they ferreted out the last remaining living. Then they just moved on to the next one. Not much left after that.

It was safer to stick to the lonely places, the woods and rocks and hills. Chase had been a bow hunter before all this, so he knew how to get by. He used to have a tent, but it was long lost and trampled. By now, he was an expert at setting up somewhere to hide and refuel, something that the creeps would just stumble on by if they didn't catch his scent. 

This time, it was a crevice between some old rocks at the base of a ridge. The odd formation might have once been left by glaciers, or maybe it was some sort of modern art installation. It was surrounded by young trees and the entrance was small enough to force the dead to squeeze through one-by-one if they found it. Small stones, red and chalk-crumbly, lay beside it in a rough square. 

Carl pushed his way forward once Chase indicated it was the place. He carefully stalked around the perimeter, knowing eyes seeking out vulnerabilities. He squeezed into the opening to check inside before he allowed the older man to approach. He took the bag from Rick, and pulled it in with him as he wriggled into the space.

"Make yourself at home," Chase offered Rick, gesturing the man forward. 

"Thank you."

It was weird to hear the words, grumbled out like rocks sliding against each other, but Chase could feel his cheeks burn with another smile. 

Once Rick finished his way into the safe space, Chase took one last look around. He kicked the dirt off his boots, then slung the sack to his side as he scooted his own way into the shelter.

Carl was already helping himself to one of the glass jugs of water. He carefully sipped as he wetted his throat and lips. Not a drop was wasted. 

"It's clean, Rick," he said softly, handing the jug over to the older man.

"Rain water," Chase cut in. "Can't trust the rivers no more."

Rick took a shallow swallow, wincing hard as he worked the tight knot of his throat over the liquid. The second sip was easier, but he rationed himself carefully. 

It was shadowy and dark in the shelter, but during the day enough light leaked through for Chase to read his tattered copy of /The Shining./ It made it easy to see the pain lessen on Rick's face, and the fond way he watched Carl set up a shared sleeping space in the far corner. 

A few things clicked into place, and Chase shrugged to himself. So what if they were a couple? At least they had someone.

It was a tight fit for the three of them, with barely an arm's length between their beds, but Chase didn't mind sharing it. Just the smooth noise of normal, human breathing helped his shoulders to relax. 

"What kind of food you got?"

The kid tossed over a rough hide pouch he had fished out of a pack, the top tied with a thick, sturdy knot. Chase picked at it until it came open, revealing the stash of nuts inside. 

"Pecans," Carl said carefully. He was now sitting beside the older man, sharing the water between them. "We know a place."

"Much abliged." Chase toasted the men with the unwrapped bundle before taking two nuts and crunching them between his teeth. They were hard, and one was slightly burnt, but the savory-sweet flavor burst across his tongue. It was the best rush of pleasure he'd felt in a long time.

He closed his eyes, letting the nut mush sink into his tongue and wash away the sour flavor of ashes.

*****

Chase moved to full awareness easily at the first airy moan. His hand was already wrapped around his knife, though he held himself still as he tried to use the noise to figure out which direction the creeps were coming from. Had the herd caught his scent and moved faster than he had counted on?

There was a low hiss, but it was too well-formed and wet to be from a dead throat. It sounded completely alien, until Chase was startled by the smooth smack of skin striking skin. He opened his eyes and looked to the side. 

The kid was naked, his pale skin like a beacon in the darkness. Scars like dark blood splashed across his arms and chest. He was sitting up, but his stance was strange. Then he hopped, his hips making a soft smack as he fell back onto the older man, and Chase finally figured it out. 

The old man and the kid were fucking. Carl was riding the man with practiced twists of his hips, his back arched as he leaned down into Rick's face. Another wet noise--a kiss--and this time the moan was swallowed into a willing mouth. 

Chase eased his grip on the knife, forcing his body to relax out of a ready-to-fight stance. They weren't making enough noise to attract the attention of a wandering creep. If he hadn't been on his own so long, the noise probably wouldn't have woken him. He'd slept through louder sex back when he had a whole camp of people with him. You learned just to tune it out. 

Carl gave a small, choked sigh of pleasure, his smooth skin shuddering as he shivered and adjusted his position. A sliver of need snuck down Chase's spine, almost painful in its unfamiliarity. When he'd first been on his own, he'd masturbated a lot. It was the only pleasure he could possibly get out of the long days and nights of running. But, eventually it had lost its charm, and then he'd just gotten out of the habit. The swelling of his cock hurt with it's suddenness, but the pleasure was better than pecans. 

"Oh, daddy," Carl gasped in a needy whisper. "Fuck me, daddy."

"Uh, Carl." The smack of skin on skin increased as the older man snapped his hips up. "Yeah, baby boy. So good for daddy."

Chase wanted to chuckle. So what if they were kinky? At least they weren't too loud. They whispered hotly to each other, trading wet kisses and spurring each other closer to their orgasms. 

Chase closed his eyes, rubbing his palm against his erection. The friction of the loose, dirty fabric against his neglected cock set a fire along his senses. Shit, why did he ever stop doing this? He slid his hand into his jeans, gripping himself as the obscene noises rose loud in his hearing. 

"Come in my ass, daddy. I need it so bad."

"Such a good boy, Carl."

"Oh, please. I wanna feel you all day. Never wash you out."

Chase stroked himself quickly, feeling his muscles clenching and his heart stuttering.

"Take it, baby boy, take it. You're so good."

The world exploded behind Chase's eyes as a keening, cut-off wail of pleasure sent him over the edge. He didn't know if the sound was his, theirs, or maybe even a memory, but it was enough. He gasped for air as the aftershocks squeezed out of him, wrapping his body in pleasure before he finally eased into a pleasant haze. He slid his hand out of his jeans, wiping his hand surreptitiously against his blanket.

Chase swallowed loudly, then held his breath, straining to hear the couple in the darkness. There were soft, wet sounds and skin rubbing against skin, but they didn't seem disturbed in their intimacy. Vague whispers floated around him, a deep chuckle, and then he allowed himself to ease back into sleep. 

*****

Chase woke up with a hard on, some strangely pleasant dream drifting away as he came to his senses. His body felt warm and relaxed in ways he hadn't known he could still feel. His stomach didn't ache with emptiness. He felt safe, and alive, and strong.

He let himself wallow in the feeling, stretching out and waiting for his erection to subside on its own. Pieces of the night before slowly came back. He knew he should feel some guilt over prying in on such a private moment. Years ago, it had meant something. But now? Now you took what you could get, and to hell with guilt. Not like there was much privacy in ten square feet of space.

He stretched more, delighting in the slight pull of muscles as his hips shifted. His arm reached out, and then ran into something.

Someone.

Chase sprang up, pushing his back to the rocks as his fingers found his knife. He panted through his open mouth, ready to fight.

"Calm down," Carl frowned. The kid was fully dressed, a raggedy hat pulled low over his brow as he leaned back into his own wall. His long legs were splayed open, his knees bent to keep his worn boots off the blankets.

Chase's eyes dropped to Carl's crotch for a moment before he snapped them up to his face. He put on his own scowl. "Shoulda woke me."

"And get stabbed? No thanks." Carl's voice was low and deep, but the hard edge was smoothed away a little. He almost seemed happy. He kicked a dented tin bowl across the space between them. "Have some. Rick's checking the herd."

Chase slid the bowl over to himself, checking inside. It was a handful of a few nuts and dried berries, with some indiscriminate leaves tucked in. Chase fished a curled leaf out of the bowl, sniffing it carefully. 

Carl snorted. "Wild mint. Or catnip. Not much difference, really."

Chase bit into the leaf, the cool flavor filling his head with clarity. "Lotta difference to the cat," he joked, shoving a couple shriveled berries into his mouth to soak up the saliva suddenly rushing forth. 

"Not really," Carl insisted with another shrug. "But then I haven't seen too many cats around lately."

Silence settled as Chase worked through the lavish breakfast, savoring the mix of flavors. He'd spent too long sticking to what he knew, eating prey and avoid plants that for all he knew were poisonous. It was a rare treat, an indulgence. 

His eyes would occasionally slide over to Carl, drawn to the lean line of his legs, the shadowed nook of his crotch. The kid sprawled like he hadn't just been fucked like a two-dollar whore on payday. The noises and whispers came back to him as he chewed his breakfast, and he couldn't help but wonder if he was still dripping come. 

"I know you saw us," Carl said when Chase was nearly done. 

He coughed slightly, inhaling a crumb. Carl just passed him one of the smaller jars of water. "What?" he insisted once he'd cleared his throat.

"I know you saw us last night."

Chase winced, taking another sip to stall. "Kinda hard not to," he replied defensively.

The kid scowled nastily, scratching at the rough beard on his cheek. 

"Look," Chase started, but his voice broke. He cleared his throat, and put the water down. "Look, I don't care that you're together. Take it where you can, man. Any joy you can get."

Carl still looked sour. 

"Really. I don't care. Hell, if had someone, woman OR man, I'd've done the same." 

The sour look eased a bit. 

"I mean, it's a bit stupid to be homophobic during the end of the world. Hell, it was stupid before it, too."

Carl took a long moment to stare into Chase's eyes, looking for something in his gaze. Then he gave a crooked smile. "You're not getting a turn."

Chase held up his hands. "Don't need one, thanks."

Rick took that moment to slip back inside the space. He didn't show any sign he had heard what Carl and Chase were talking about. "You've eaten?" he asked as he looked down at the empty bowl. Chase nodded. "Good. I got a good line of sight from the bluff. Looks like the herd you were talking about is a day behind, maybe a day and a half unless something distracts them."

Chase started wrapping the water jugs with his blanket to muffle the noise as he settled them into his sack. "You saw the size of it. Nothing less than a full fucking city of fresh meat could distract 'em, and I ain't seen one of those in years."

Carl moved efficiently, taking blankets out of Rick's hand and folding them to fit in their packs. Rick let him, settling on the floor with a sigh as Carl finished packing their things. It was only the work of minutes, but it seemed to drag on like a thousand undead footprints in the dirt. 

Chase held out a large, full jug of water. The cap was well secured, and it would hold the two men long enough to get well ahead of the herd. "Take it."

Rick stared at it. In the light, fully fed and watered, he didn't look so ancient. He was hard worn, yes, but he hadn't been that old when things went to hell. Maybe about the same age as Chase was. He was handsome, really, with kind blue eyes that made you want to trust him. "You sure?"

"I got plenty. There's stashes, if you know how to find 'em. Just make sure to put some leaves across the top to keep the crap out when it rains. Put it in a clear space. Don't let the bastards break it."

Rick gripped it with his left hand, his skin warm as their fingers brushed against the coolness of the glass. 

"Come with us?" he offered. "We could use some more bodies."

Chase eyed them both. His chest was tight at the thought of having others around again, a difficult emotion that both calmed and irritated him. "Nah. Numbers just bring more of 'em." Or just guaranteed that your corpse had something to snack on when it got up.

"You sure?" Carl asked, his hand resting companionably on Rick's shoulder. 

"Better we split up. Maybe the herd will break apart, make it easier to get 'em off our trails. Biggest I've seen since Cynthiana."

Rick nodded slowly. Carl helped him to stand, and the three of them exited the bolt hole one-by-one. 

"Which way you going?" Rick asked softly.

"Bit north. Look for more game."

"We'll go east." Rick paused a moment, holding out his left hand. "Hope we meet again."

Chase squeezed his palm close, memorizing the brief feeling of living skin before letting go. "Keep each other alive."

"We always have," Carl answered. He wrapped his hand around Rick's waist, pulling him away from Chase's touch.

Chase didn't watch them go as he started jogging into the woods. It was a pace he could keep up for nearly a day without rest. He was alone, again, but he carried the thoughts of the two men with him. 

They were lucky. At least they had each other.

**Author's Note:**

> I adore Josh Stewart like whoa, and was thinking of how to get more fic with his character Chase (from the webisodes) in it. Then I had a random thought of Rick and Carl being a stealth-incestuous couple a decade or so after the series, and this came together in a blink when I couldn't get back to sleep.


End file.
